All We Needed | S. Harrington
Pairing: Steve x Hopper!Reader
Timeframe: Post-Season 4
Summary: Hopper is forced to reckon with the idea that his relationship with his eldest daughter is past the point of repair.
series masterlist // main masterlist
a/n: an epilogue is to follow :)
full transparency, this part was a bitch for me to write bc i was really indecisive on which direction to go- literally wrote and rewrote multiple versions and multiple endings.
finished writing this one months ago but i wanted time to sit with it (lowk regret doing that haha). for this reason, it does not follow season 5 at ALL, so keep that in mind. even though i’m still on the fence about it, i feel confident enough to share it now <3
April 5th, 1986
A run down helicopter piloted by Russian men she had only recently met was not what Joyce would ordinarily consider an ideal flight experience; after escaping death by the skin of her teeth, it may as well have been first class.
Hopper, on the other hand, remained unfazed, even when told they would be back in Indiana within the next couple days. Joyce nudged his side with her elbow, breaking through his stoic gaze.
“Hey, cheer up. We’re going home."
It was all they talked about for the last week. It was all he thought about for the last 8 months. If there was ever a person to show enthusiasm about leaving Russia, Joyce thought for sure it would be him.
“Yeah,” Hopper huffed, his attention turning back to the helicopter interior. It wasn't that he was not happy about making it out of Russia alive. It was that he was far too paralysed by fear to revel in the fact that he was no longer prisoner. Joyce had an inkling as to why.
“Is it Y/n?”
His eyes fell to the floor, suddenly sheepish at the mention of his eldest daughter. How would she look at him when he makes it home? The more he humoured the lingering question, the more his anxiety grew.
“I’ve been so focused on getting out and finding my way back home, I don’t-“ He fumbled to find the words, a parasite of a habit, one he thought he had finally overcome. He ran a hand over his mouth and shook his head. “What the hell am I gonna say to her?”
Joyce hesitated to respond, unsure if his question was rhetorical or not. She thought of the expression Y/n had when they spoke on her front porch in California. The resemblance between her and Hopper was suddenly apparent to Joyce in a way she had not seen before.
“All you can do is show up and do your best.”
“What if my best isn’t enough?”
Joyce had never heard his voice tremble in such a way. Much to both of their dismay, she sighed defeatedly.
“You just keep showing up.”
Hopper knew Joyce was right, but he couldn't shake the temptation to scoff with dissatisfaction. Losing Y/n because he was imprisoned in Russia was hell, but it was something Hopper came to terms with. Losing her, because of nothing else but his own doing, was not something he could accept.
***
April 17th, 1986
El and Will came home to a disgruntled Hopper washing dishes alone in the kitchen, a telltale sign that something was wrong. Joyce had called it an early night, though not necessarily because she wanted to. From what she was able to make out from her side of the walls, she was better off getting some rest than attempting to diffuse an on-edge Jim Hopper. El was oblivious to the remnant tension.
"Where’s Y/n?"
Hopper kept his back to her. One glance at his expression and El would easily figure out what had happened. He swallowed thickly and tried to conceal how coarse his voice had become.
"She left."
"She told me she would stay." El's response came quick and accusatory. Y/n had told her about coming over for dinner and assured her that she would be home for at least a few nights. Something had clearly happened to make her want to leave and, given Hopper's guilty demeanour, El was certain she knew who the culprit was.
"What happened? What did you say to her?"
Hopper dropped the dish in his hand abruptly, causing a loud clank to sound through the room, startling a nervous Will who stood with his back to the wall, too anxious to get involved or ask El to leave it alone. Finally, the older man turned around and threw his hands up in frustration.
"El, I can’t get into this again."
She hated the way she felt. It was as if they had reverted back to their old dynamics, where tension would grow between Y/n and Hopper but she would never be able to do anything about it.
"Did you fight with her?"
Hopper's head dropped, too ashamed to admit what El had already deduced. The young girl huffed, her chest rising and falling with every breath. All he had to do was have a nice dinner with Y/n and not say anything to make her leave, but it seemed no matter how much she believed things would be different, they never would.
"Why?" El cried, "why do you always do this?"
It was not fair. All El thought about, for the better half of the past year, was being back in the cabin with her dad and sister. Now, despite the three of them being back in Hawkins, it seemed something was always keeping them apart.
Hopper flinched as El slammed her bedroom door shut. It was a sound he hated feeling all too familiar with.
***
April 24th, 1986
Y/n planned it strategically. She knew what time her dad, El and the Byers woke up and knew the right time to go home and leave again without being detected. She was not only avoiding her dad, but also any kind of awkward exchange with one of the Byers. She also knew if El knew she was home, Y/n might not have the heart to leave.
Hopper couldn't sleep. Anytime he came close to sleeping, thoughts of his daughters flooded his mind and jolted him awake. As a result, he was often up before sunrise. He would often still wait until the first signs of sunlight peeked through his bedroom curtains, before getting up carefully, so as to not wake Joyce, and sit outside on the front porch with his first coffee of the morning.
This morning, he knew something was odd. It wasn't until he saw light peeking in from Y/n's bedroom and Steve's BMW parked outside that he pieced together what it was. She was home. Joyce had tried to assure him that she would come back in time, but that never stopped him from fearing that she wouldn't.
Not wanting to scare her away or say something he would quickly regret, Hopper opted to sit on the porch with his coffee as per usual. Though he knew it was a risky move, Hopper couldn’t help but get his hopes up about Y/n being home. Maybe she was ready to talk to him again. Maybe she wasn’t, but was getting there. Maybe it would take her a while, but if she was willing to give him another chance, Hopper was certain not to let it be in vain.
Before he could ponder further, the front door bursted opened and Y/n came outside. Instinctively, Hopper rose to his feet and looked to his daughter with a hopeful gleam, only to be dimmed by the realisation that she was carrying a duffle bag on her shoulders— one filled to the brim with most of her important belongings.
Y/n’s face went blank and her stomach dropped completely. It was not lost on her the change in her dad’s expression and while she still had a white-knuckle grip on her grudges against him, it was hard not to feel some semblance of guilt for coming and leaving without intending to say a word.
“Bug, we have to talk at some point.” His voice was quiet and pleading, two things they rarely ever were. Y/n sighed.
“I really don’t wanna talk.” Her voice was tired and frustrated. Talking seemed pointless. It was always likely to end the same as it always did, and Y/n was doubtful either of them had anything to say the other hadn’t already heard.
Hoppers lips parted and he tried to grasp the right words and muster some semblance of an apology, but Y/n stopped him before he could finish saying ‘sorry’.
“We’re way past apologies,” she spoke bluntly. It was empty words to her, especially when it came from him.
Hopper was at a loss. He couldn’t help but feel a lingering sense of frustration. What was the use in trying to say the right thing if she was unwilling to give him the time of day? How long could they keep this up? How long before not speaking to each other becomes permanent?
“I don’t know what you want me to say, bug,” he sighed defeatedly. Y/n resented his response; how easily he was willing to give up and leave it to her to spoon feed the right words to him.
“You wanna know what to say?” Her tone was piercing, and her glare was just as so. “Tell me what was so different between me and El that made you clean up your act for her, but not for me.”
There was more to the issue than that, but that truly was the twisting of the blade. All he had to do was deny it, or apologise for it. If he had done that, Y/n might have been willing to hear him out, but Hopper grasped for another response.
“It was different.”
Y/n’s chest felt tight. From her hardened expression, Hopper could tell he had yet again chosen the wrong words. It was seemingly vague, but heavily loaded. Different, Y/n repeated to herself. That was how her father viewed her and El. Differently.
“…Different how?” Her voice was coarse. Hopper was unsure if it was anger or sadness brewing beneath her tone, but he feared each just as much as the other.
He couldn’t answer her question. Not because he didn’t know the answer, but because it was something he was too ashamed to say aloud. Y/n didn’t need to heard anything more. It was pointless, she told herself. Talking to him was pointless. She should have left without giving him a chance to say anything to her.
She turned on her heels swiftly and attempted to leave, but Hoppers hand reached for her elbow, keeping her from doing so. Y/n didn’t need to explain why the duffle bag was so full or where she was going or how long she would be gone. Hopper knew, and feared, that once she reached Steve’s car, it would be a while before she ever stood foot on their porch again. He wanted to tell her so much, but none of the words were able to form except for one.
"Bug," he choked. It was a cry, a plead, but one Y/n remained unmoved by. With a steely expression, she shook her arm out of his grasp and cleared the lump in her throat.
“Don’t ever call me that again.”
Hopper was frozen. He heard her footsteps grow quieter and the sound of Steve's BMW leaving the driveway, but he could not bring himself to watch her leave for, what could very well be, the last time.
***
April 27th, 1986
Y/n never meant to but, over time, she grew to avoid everyone who stayed at the cabin, El included. The wound was still fresh to her and running into El or one of the Byers meant the risk of having to talk about it. When Miss Kelley had talked to her about setting boundaries, Y/n never anticipated doing so with anyone aside from her father.
El hated it. Hopper never told her anything and neither did Joyce. It was not until she went into her sister's room and noticed half her things missing that she realised how different this time was. Usually, when Hopper and Y/n would fight and she would leave, it would only be a matter of days before she was back home. Now, over a week had passed and there was no telling how much longer it would be before El had her sister back.
She waited for a few days to pass, knowing soon enough Mike and the others would want to go to Steve's house. That would be her opportunity to get some answers. Y/n was bringing groceries into the kitchen, where El sat waiting.
"Hey," the older girl said softly, placing her bags down on the counter before carefully approaching her younger sister.
"Are you not gonna come home anymore?"
Y/n winced. She should have known El would have questions. She knew it was not fair to keep her in the dark, but it was not an easy thing for her to talk about.
"El its complicated," she sighed.
"You always say that," the younger girl complained.
That was all she ever got when she asked questions. It may have been a sufficient answer for her when she was twelve, but El felt she had outgrown the little kid treatment. Y/n let out a huff.
"Because it is!"
El frowned and looked away. It was a childish reaction, but one she couldn't help and one Y/n sympathised with.
"i’m gonna come home, I promise," she murmured, sitting beside El at the kitchen table. The young girl reluctantly met her gaze. She was still upset, but willing to meet her halfway at the sound of her promise, something Y/n very rarely broke. "I just need a little time."
"How much time?"
"El."
Her shoulders rose and the sunk, along with her head. Perhaps it was not the right move to pester her older sister when she was clearly going through a lot.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled sheepishly. Y/n shuffled closer and placed her hand atop her sister's, wordlessly assuring her it was alright. El inhaled shakily, "I just miss you. and I don’t want to lose you, all because of this-"
"That’s never gonna happen," Y/n soothed, "I promise."
It was no specific timeframe, or any particular explanation about what happened, but it was assurance that El would have her sister back home again and, with her, their ice cream nights and secret conversations. Whil still annoyed at the situation, El supposed she could comply until that day finally came around.
***
May 2nd, 1986
Steve and Y/n had been going back and forth for almost twenty minutes about what movie to watch. The kids were, thankfully, all busy with plans for the night and Y/n had her weekend free while the shelter was being relocated. With shops slowly reopening and homes slowly being rebuilt, it felt nice to see everyone in town begin to return to normalcy.
Just as Steve was about defend his case for his pick for movie night, her heard a knock at the door. After a brief moment, he reappeared in the living room and called out to his girlfriend, who was sneakily putting her pick for movie night into the VHS player while she had the chance.
"It’s Joyce."
She couldn't make out from Steve's demeanour if it was good news or not, only that it was an awkward exchange for him. Y/n nodded and carefully made her way to the door where the older woman stood, nervously fumbling her fingers.
"Can we talk?"
Though suspicious of where their conversation would lead, Y/n nodded and stepped outside.
"Y/n. I'm really sorry."
The young girl furrowed her brows, perplexed. What could she be apologising for? Was it for everything that happened between her and dad? Had she somehow convinced herself that she carried any of the blame for how things turned out? Y/n shook her head.
"Joyce, you don't have to say that. Honestly, this really is just between me and Hopper."
"I know," the older woman spoke, her nervous demeanour still apparent. "I’m not trying to overstep, but I just… I feel like I owe you an apology."
"What are you talking about?"
Joyce pursed her lips together, recounting the amount of time she spent, over the past weeks, thinking over Y/n's complaints. She knew she was not meant to hear it, but she couldn't change the fact that she did.
"I realised neither of us really asked you how you were and what you went through."
It was new to Y/n, hearing Joyce refer to her and Hopper as 'us'.
"I was never expecting you to do that." Y/n did not meant to sound so snide, but it was the first thought that came to her. While it would have been nice if Joyce had better considered her feelings, Y/n never held it against her because, ultimately, Joyce was not her parent. Hopper was.
"Still," Joyce continued, "I wish I had done more to slow things down and I wish I had talked to you before going along with all the changes, because it's your home... I’m sorry I didn’t."
Y/n smiled weakly. She was grateful to Joyce, but felt a persistent bitterness that undermined it. She wanted an apology, but she wanted it from her dad. She tried to cast her reservations aside and just appreciate that her feelings were being validated, even if it was not by the person she wanted.
"Thank you for saying that, Joyce."
The older woman smiled, but something still seemed to be bothering her.
"You know, me and the boys living at the cabin, it’s all just temporary right?" It was something that had been weighing on her for a while. "Once things settle and I’m back on my feet-"
Y/n's brows knitted together in a mix of confusion and worry.
"Is that just because of me?"
"Its because that was always the plan," Joyce assured her, "- and because Jonathan and Will are driving each other crazy sharing a space."
While she was grateful to the Hoppers for giving her and her joys a place to stay, she wanted her own place— one her and her boys could call their home. The cabin was and would always be Hopper and his girls; Joyce had no intention of changing that, which Y/n appreciated greatly, even if she had no intention on going back there anytime soon just yet.
***
May 14th, 1986
At first, Steve thought it was a coincidence. It was a small town, he told himself. Hawkins was a small town; they were bound to encounter Hopper at some point. However, as he continued to pay closer attention to detail, he could no longer shrug off the feeling that it was no coincidence at all.
He had made spaghetti for dinner, partially to celebrate Y/n’s first week at a new job, but also to make the most of their time together before his parents would eventually come back into town for a few weeks.
Steve was washing up their dishes when he glanced out the kitchen window and caught a glimpse of an all too familiar truck. Though alarmed, he tried to maintain nonchalance until Y/n retired upstairs and he was certain she was out of earshot. She mumbled something about wanting to shower before bed so, once he heard her footsteps reach the top of the stairs, Steve dried his hands off and carefully snuck outside.
The older man seemed half asleep, his eyes heavy as he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, as if struggling to stay alert. He had not noticed the younger man approaching him, that is, until Steve tapped his finger twice against the window.
“Hopper?”
The man sat up straight, fully awake. He sheepishly wheeled his window down, his mouth trembling as he struggled to come up with a response that did not paint him to be an obsessed stalker.
“Look, I can explain-“
“It’s ok,” Steve interjected, his voice low and calm, not wanting to draw any attention to them, “I… I get it.”
He didn’t. Not completely, at least. He just knew that Hopper was harmless, and that things between him and Y/n had never escalated to this point before: almost an entire month of no contact.
“It’s just that,” Hopper released a sigh, one he had been seemingly holding in for a while. It was dark outside, causing Steve to doubt his eyes, but he could have sworn he cought a glimpse of tears beginning to well in the former police chief’s sunken eyes. The older man drew in a sharp breath, “she’s not speaking to me, and she hasn’t been home in so long, and I just get worried.”
That, Steve could understand. Although it had been over a month since everything with Vecna came to a peak, he was still not fully convinced they were out of the woods. Even something as simple as saying goodbye to Y/n, when she would leave for work in the morning, made him anxious. It was as though he was constantly anticipating something dangerous happening, putting Y/n in harms way again.
“She’s ok,” Steve assured him.
As anxious as he still was about Y/n’s wellbeing, there was no denying how much improvement she had made. Reminding himself of this was what grounded Steve whenever his worries got carried away.
“She is?”
“Yeah, she’s been seeing Miss Kelley and nurse Jackson got her a job helping out at the hospital.”
Hopper nodded, appreciative of how much Steve was sharing, even if it was just small details. It was far better than knowing nothing at all and getting carried away with his worries and assumptions. She was getting help and getting back on her feet. An unwelcoming feeling began to settle in Hopper’s chest. If she was doing so well, what chance was there that she would ever go back?
“Does she say anything about me? Or about coming home?” Hopper knew it was indulgent of him to ask, but the words slipped away from him before remembered to hold his tongue. Steve shifted uncomfortably.
“I don’t know if she’d want me to-“
“You’re right.”
Hopper huffed, disappointed. He wanted to know more. He wanted answers. He wanted to hear Y/n’s voice. He wanted her back home. But, he knew he had no right to any of it, and that Steve was already sticking his neck out for him by talking to him at all and not immediately telling Y/n. He knew he would have to accept that as enough for now, but Hopper struggled to do so. Steve could tell and, against his better judgment, sympathised.
"I just think she needs a little more time,” he assured the older man, “… and space.”
Hopper nodded, bashful. If he really wanted Y/n to come around and hear him out, keeping tabs on her was not going to help his case.
“Yeah. I’ll go, I won’t make a habit of this anymore,” Hopper promised, putting his key into the ignition, his eyes never leaving the Harrington kid, “- thank you.”
Steve backed away from the truck and cautiously made his way back inside the house. He could hear the sound of Hopper’s truck grow quieter as he drove away, until the streets were once again silence. A moment passed and he heard Y/n’s footsteps once again as she walked about his bedroom. He finished washing the dishes and felt riddled with guilt and worry, unsure if he had done the right thing.
***
May 27th, 1986
Y/n missed her room. She missed her knick knacks and her bed, but she mostly missed having a space that was her own. At one point, the thought crossed her mind that her dad and Joyce might rearrange her room and it would become Will and Jonathan’s bedroom. The thought was, however, quickly cast away following Y/n’s conversation with Joyce and El’s constant reassurance that she checked the room every other night to make sure it was exsctly how her sister had left it.
Steve’s parents had been back in town for almost a week. Despite being under the same roof, Y/n hardly spoke to them. She left for work long before either of them were awake and by the time she was back, they had already had their own dinner and called it a night. For a while, things were ok, but she soon pieced together that they were uncomfortable with her living there. Though Steve would never let it show or openly admit it to Y/n, she knew this left him in a difficult position.
When she packed her things and asked him to take her home, she had to spend most of the drive assuring him she was not at all upset to keep him from spiralling from guilt. It was not right for her to make Mr and Mrs Harrington uncomfortable in their own home, regardless of how she felt about them as absent parents. Besides, it was only a matter of time before they left town again, so Y/n was certain she could stick it out until then. Enough time and distance had passed, she decided. And, much more than that, she really missed her room.
After an overexcited reception from El and Joyce, Y/n threw her bags down on her bedroom floor and sunk onto her bed. She missed her pillow felt against her cheek and the gentle draft coming in from her window. Steve’s house was lovely, but it never truly felt like home for her. It was not long before she felt herself drift to sleep. Y/n could faintly make out El’s voice mumbling something about going to the store with Joyce and wanting to make something special for dinner, but she did not stay awake long enough to give it anymore thought.
Y/n woke up to quiet. She forgot, at first, that she was home. Then, when she opened her eyes and came face to face with the myriad of photos that adorned her wall, she knew there was only one place she could be. She yawned as she sat upright and stretched her arms out. Y/n couldn’t remeber the last time she slept so well in that bed, in her room or in that house altogether.
The wooden floors were cold against her feet as she walked out of her bedroom. She came to a stop when she realised Hopper was the only other person home. Not only that, it appeared he had been waiting for her to wake up and come out. He sat at the kitchen table, today’s paper clutched in his hands. The moment their eyes met, he rose to his feet, the newspaper slipping out of his hands and landing softly on the empty table.
“Hi,” Hopper eked out, his voice low and gruff.
Y/n swallowed thickly, her voice suddenly fading fast on her.
“Hi.”
Hopper held his breath as his daughter, slowly and seemingly reluctantly, made her way to him, taking the chair on the side of the table. When he came home late that morning, he tried to contain his joy when Joyce told him Y/n was fast asleep in her room.
She watched his lips twitch as he seemingly struggled over what to say. It was one thing thinking of what to say in the hour he spent sitting at the table, waiting for Y/n to come out; It was another thing, entirely, getting out with her sitting opposite him.
“I’m really happy you’re here.”
Y/n blinked, unfazed by his words and unwilling to respond to them. While she had experienced a lot of change in the month she spent away, she simply could not father her father had done the same, let alone enough to where she could trust that his words were sincere. She shifted awkwardly in her chair, her eyes falling to the wooden table beneath her arms, unable to look at her father for too long at one time. She remained silent.
Miss Kelley would not approve, Y/n knew. The counselor would undoubtedly shake her head and gently remind Y/n the importance of open communication and encourage her to engage in the conversation or walk away until she was ready to.
Y/n knew she could easily stand up and walk away, but something kept her from doing so. Perhaps it was time. Perhaps she was ready to engage. Perhaps she could not ignore how miserable her father looked, and wondered, and sheepishly hoped, if it was because of her absence.
“It’s not true,” Hopper whispered, throwing caution to the wind and just getting everything that was weighing him down out and off his chest, “- I didn’t decide to clean up my act for El.”
All Hopper had done for the past month was recount every part of his conversation with Y/n, to the point where he could recall her every word as if she spoke them just yesterday. She, on the other hand, had spent the past month trying desperately to avoid dwelling on it. Y/n talked it over a handful of times with Miss Kelley then, eventually, moved on to other conversations they had had over the years.
“What are you talking about?”
Y/n furrowed her brows, puzzled by Hopper’s demeanour and startled at his decision to confront things head on and so immediately. He was usually the one to avoid dredging up the past.
“You asked me why I did it for her and not you,” Hopper clarified, a lump forming in his throat as he remembered it, “- but that wasn’t true at all. Sure, El was a big part of the reason I got clean, but so were you.”
He cleared his throat, catching himself beginning to get choked up. He did not want to get emotional in front of Y/n, for fear that it would come off as a cop out. He had much to say to her and wanted, for once, for his words to be his saving grace.
Hopper waited a beat, wondering if Y/n had anything to say or if she was still willing to hear him out altogether. The young woman shrugged, not yet convinced Hopper meant anything he was saying. He was not discouraged because even in her disinterest, she was still sitting with him at the kitchen table.
“You remember when I first brought her home?” Hopper asked, “- and the fight we had?”
Y/n could not figure what he was trying to do or where he was going with things. She didn’t nod or say that she did remember, but Hopper needed no indication to know she remembered.
“When you told me I couldn’t look after myself, I hated that that was what you saw in me,” Hopper admitted honestly, remembering how miserable he felt sitting at the kitchen table alone after Y/n slammed her bedroom door shut that night. “I hated that that was what I’d become, and I wanted to change it. I wanted you to think better of me.”
That was his turning point. That was what motivated him to clean out the cabin that week and set up a proper bedroom for El. He hoped Y/n would see his efforts and think more of him than a walking liability in her life.
“That doesn’t change anything,” she muttered, crossing her arms and drawing her lips together to form a tight line. It was a nice thought, albeit. It still was not enough for her.
“I know,” Hopper nodded. He anticipated as much. “And I know there’s nothing I can ever do to make up for everything… but I need you to know that.”
He knew he was terrible at showing it to her, but she was always one of the most important parts of his life. While he was still avoiding having to confront the chance of never being given another chance to mend things, he knew coping with it would come easier if he was sure Y/n knew that she meant more to him than she thought.
“You’re my firstborn, Y/n,” Hopper’s voice broke. He ran his hand over his stubble, wiping away the few tears that broke loose. “You were my first girl, my first kid. No one in a million years could ever come close to replacing you.”
He still remembered the night he and his wife brought Y/n home from the hospital after she was born; how anxious he felt driving the car, fearful of going too fast or too slow or of something coming out of nowhere and hurting her. It was then that he truly felt the weight of fatherhood begin to sink in. It was then that he realised a love unlike anything he had experienced before, far stronger than he could have anticipated. Nothing was ever the same thereafter, and it was because of her.
Y/n cleared her throat, but felt the lump continue to persist. She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, embarassed at how quickly they filled with tears. Shaking her head, she looked back to her dad and, for the first time, felt unfamiliar with the man staring back at her.
“It didn’t feel like that when El came into our lives,” she whispered, her even tone neither bitter nor angry.
“I know,” her dad responded, nodding solemnly. Hindsight was no longer a thorn at his side but rather a gift, through which Hopper gained a better understanding of his daughter. “It was wrong of me to do that, believe me, I see that now.”
He saw so much more than he had before. After a week and a half passed since Y/n last spoke to him, Hopper found himself sorting through the boxes of photographs and mementos that sat untouched in Y/n’s room and in odd corners around the cabin. In doing so, he was forced to face the past decade: how much he could not recognise, how much he tried hard to avoid and how much he had forgotten altogether.
It was difficult to reckon with the fact that Y/n saw him through it all, including the years that brought him great shame to recall.
“I was in a completely different place when we lost your mom and Sara,” Hopper began. Saying her name aloud still felt like picking at an old wound, but if he was going to do things right he knew he had to face everything. He looked at the ceiling momentarily, gathering his thoughts, “- and I guess I just… El was a new start. And it was easier for me to try and get it right the third time around than own up to everything I’d done wrong to you.”
He was not proud of it. Even admitting it aloud to Y/n filled him with great shame, but there was no way around it. He had tried to take the easy way out and thought, if things went well enough with El, all his past mistakes would fade into obscurity and there would be no need for him to confront his reality at the time: that he was so consumed by grief and guilt, he became a shell of a man who, in every way, fell short of being the father Y/n deserved.
“Everything you said to me that night at Starcourt… it wasn’t unreasonable,” he continued. “Took me a while to come to grips with it, but I did, and I hated it.”
Y/n sniffled, wiping her tear-stained cheeks with her trembling hands. It was one thing imagining what her dad would say when he finally took responsibility for his actions, it was another thing entirely having it play out before her eyes. Hopper swiped his thumb against the apple of his cheek. Neither of them could bear to look the other in the eye. For a moment, the only sound that filled the room was that of the two of them trying to contain their cries.
“I still… I still remember the drive to the lab after,” Hopper continued tearfully, “I kept thinking ahout what you said, and it just… it just hit me all at once.”
Y/n glanced at him briefly, curious.
“I realised I had been so far gone for so long, I completely missed it. I missed raising you. It felt like yesterday you were stepping on my toes and dancing to the Bee Gees with me, but it wasn’t and nothing I was ever gonna be able to do to was gonna get me that time back, and there was no telling if I’d ever get more. And I had no one but myself to blame.”
Hopper dropped his head, a quiet sob escaping. He tried to recover his composure quickly. He drew in a few short breaths until it was steady again.
“I should have said all of this to you second we get back, but I was just… a coward.”
Y/n knitted her brows together. That wasn’t necessarily fair, she thought to himself. The circumstances that led them to reuniting were not exsctly ideal. She wondered if, similar to her, he too felt a weird pressure to move forward, as though bringing up the past would taint the miracle that was their reunion. Cowardly was not the word she would have used, but she did not mind that that was the word he opted for.
“I’m so sorry, b-“ Hopper stopped himself, remembering the last thing Y/n said to him the last time they spoke, “I’m so sorry, Y/n.”
After a beat, she nodded her head, assuming that was all he had to say. Before she could begin to process it all, much less any kind of response, Hopper shifted in his chair and leaned forward. Y/n paused.
“Forgive me or don’t. Hate me or don’t,” he spoke softly, though Y/n could see how much it pained him entertain the thought, “it’s up to you. But listen, if you’re tired of this, I think I have enough left in the tank for the both of us— No… I know I do.”
Y/n blinked, unsure what he was insinuating and fearful of getting hopeful too soon.
“What are you talking about?
“However much room you decide to let me have in your life,” Hopper began, “I’m making the most of every inch of it; of every second you let me spend in it.”
It was not fair of him to feel entitled to any amount of time or involvement in Y/n’s future, not after everything he had done. However, Hopper was determined not to let that discourage him. He was going to show up for her as best as he could every chance he could get, even if she refused to give him the time of day ever again.
Y/n frowned.
“Why now?”
Why not sooner? Why not when she needed him the most? What was going to be different this time?
“The last 8 months,” Hopper began.
That was the short answer. The long answer was complex and difficult for him to articulate but, for the sake of showing he was making an honest effort, Hopper tried to do so.
“I didn’t know if I was ever gonna get to see you again. I didn’t know if I was ever gonna get a chance to even try and make things right between us,” Hopper’s tears ran free. He paid no mind to his trembling voice. His eyes were on his child, his focus was nowhere else. “Now that I’m here, I’m gonna spend the rest of my life trying. Even if your mind is already made up. Even if nothing comes of it. Even if the world ends tomorrow. Even… Even if it all seems pointless, because it isn’t. Not to me.”
Hopper huffed, winded from speaking so rapidly. His eyes never left Y/n. He did not want to pressure her, but also could not keep himself from watching her closely in anticipation. He planned to brace himself for possible rejection but, in the heat of the moment, could think only of her and what must have been racing through her mind.
She shrugged once again, just as she did earlier. Her demeanour was as though the tense and tearful portion of their conversation never ocurred.
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see then,” Y/n muttered, before rising from her seat and heading towards the bathroom to splash cold water on her tearful face. Joyce and El would be home soon and she did not want her puffy eyes to raise concern.
Her face was unreadable, as was her tone, unwilling to give Hopper any indication of where her head was at. She needed more time to herself to figure that out for herself.
A ghost of a smile passed through Hopper’s expression. It was not a joyful reconciliation, but it was also not a complete cut-off. Y/n’s bags were still in her bedroom and she was still home. As far as he was concerned, that was the best reaction he could have hoped for.
Wait and see, he repeated to himself. He could work with that just fine, he decided. The weight of fatherhood settled within him once again, only this time like an anchor keeping him grounded right where he wanted to be.
***
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